


Fresh Feeling

by strange_seas



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, non!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17132933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_seas/pseuds/strange_seas
Summary: Showtimefanservice hits Kyungsoo a little too close to home. Everyone has a hyung.





	Fresh Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic 😭 It's _truly_ terrible, but it's special to me, anyway. Originally posted on LiveJournal on February 8, 2014. Title taken from the song by The Eels.

It hits him so abruptly, the only point of comparison Kyungsoo has is that one time when a couple of them were playing basketball at Hangang and Kris slam-dunked, unfortunately, into his face. It was an accident, of course. Maybe that's what this is--an accident.  
  
All 12 of them are sprawled in front of the TV in K's dorm to monitor the third episode of  _Showtime_. "I still can't believe you guys pulled it off. I know subterfuge when I see it," Chanyeol is saying, belly-up on the floor, where Kris has turned him into a human footstool. The members' laughter is a soft, polite rumble. Duizhang deadpans, "I can't believe you know how to use the word 'subterfuge' in a sentence." That earns him a surprisingly agile thwack from one of Chanyeol's beanpole legs. Now, the laughter is a burst of firecrackers.  
  
On the couch, Kyungsoo is wedged between Jongin and Sehun, the latter acting as mischievous and fidgety as a teething puppy. Sehun strums his fingers underneath Kyungsoo's chin in a relentless chord, and Kyungsoo wouldn't mind so much if fatigue wasn't clinging to him like a wet veil. It doesn't help that the youngest is also jabbing him in the side to make him take more notice.  
  
"Sehun-ah," he mutters, angling his body away from the source of irritation. But Sehun is in one of his indefatigable moods, and nothing but a quick "nope" tells Kyungsoo that his warning has been met with complete and utter disregard.  _Strum, strum, strum, strum, strum, jab!_  
  
It's Jongin to the rescue, of course, as always. Kyungsoo would be more grateful if the same thing didn't happen to him day in and day out. And honestly, he's sick of Sehun's antics, sick of feeling like he's in Jongin's debt, even though that's just his prickly, illogical pride talking. But today is just like any other day when Kyungsoo finds himself in an arbitrary torture-trap of Sehun's making. Because the moment Jongin senses his discomfort, the boy slides a long, lithe arm over Kyungsoo's shoulder--only to flick Sehun, hard and sharp, on the chin.  
  
"Ouch! Shit," Sehun curses, dodging the strike a second too late.  
  
"Stop touching him," Jongin replies, and he crooks his elbow over Kyungsoo's neck, locking the older boy closer to his side. Sehun rolls his eyes and makes obnoxious kissy faces at Kyungsoo (who only rolls his eyes farther back in response). The little devil cozies up to Joonmyun instead, who absentmindedly ruffles his hair and tells him to watch his language.  
  
Jongin still has Kyungsoo's neck in a vice, and the latter wriggles a little so Jongin knows to ease up. Kyungsoo shoots him a look which is meant to say, _I can take care of myself_ , but comes off more like, _I am a fearsome little puppy-dog_ , and Jongin lets out one of his high-pitched toddler-laughs.  
  
"I can handle him," Kyungsoo starts, indignation and embarrassment simmering in his chest. But Jongin only cuts him off with an amused, "I know. Calm down."  
  
_Smug_ , Kyungsoo scoffs inwardly. He tosses out a glare at maximum intensity, cutting remarks tumbling over one another in his head, but he only snaps, "I  _am_ calm."  
  
Jongin grins.  
  
And just like that, in the middle of his cross, internal tirade, Kyungsoo sees something that makes him freeze.  
  
The way Jongin looks right now--countenance soft, cheeks glowing with delight, dark eyes so impossibly warm--makes Kyungsoo feel utterly, inexplicably self-conscious.  
  
Jongin is--well, Jongin is beautiful, really, and will probably never stop being beautiful, if his good-looking parents are any proof of genetic blessedness. But Kyungsoo feels the uncanny sensation of seeing his friend for the first time,  _really_ seeing him--and something frighteningly new beats against his ribs, clamoring to be acknowledged. It's as though he's been struck in the face with something heavy and solid and  _hot_ , and all he can do is drop his eyes back down into his lap to cover up the confusion. He doesn't realize how adorable he looks, of course. But Jongin does, and he pinches Kyungsoo on the cheek, none the wiser.  
  
"Don't treat me like a kid," Kyungsoo says swiftly, still mortified. "I'm older than you."  
  
Chanyeol holds up a hand to shush the room. "This is the part where they abandoned me!" the rapper wails, gesturing vaguely between Jongin and Sehun.  
  
Jongin only laughs, and he pats Kyungsoo lightly on the chest with an open palm before withdrawing his arm altogether. Kyungsoo is completely bewildered when his first bodily instinct is to hold fast to Jongin's arm and keep it exactly where it is. Thankfully, he doesn't, but he has to cram his hands under his legs to tamp down the persistent urge. He trains his eyes on the TV screen, willing himself to be distracted.  
  
In this scene, Sehun is asking Chanyeol a question. They're standing side by side in a shop that's practically wallpapered in hats, and Jongin enters the shot just then from the right.  
  
"Who do you want to give your gift to?" Sehun asks, clearly struggling to keep Chanyeol's secret birthday event a secret.  
  
"I'm not sure," Chanyeol says, taking a real moment to consider. His face breaks into a smile. "Kai."  
  
_More like Kris!_  is Kyungsoo's mute, accusatory response. A rosy flush has blossomed on his cheeks, and he feels his blood pounding but doesn't know what it means.  
  
"I'm Kai's fan," Chanyeol continues onscreen. "I really like Kai. And I think he likes me, too."  
  
The rapper rambles on about how he and Jongin roomed together at their last overseas hotel (Kyungsoo remembers that, as well as the mild confusion it sprang on him at the time). But that's something to be mulled over later. Because right now, all Kyungsoo can think about is how happy Jongin looks onscreen, how pleased he is to have been chosen by Chanyeol, and how good the two tall boys look together, long and lean as a pair of rifles even in their winter padding.  
  
He doesn't realize he's standing until Joonmyun asks him, very patiently, what he's doing.  
  
"What?" Kyungsoo responds hazily. He can sense Jongin looking at him. True enough, the boy reaches out.  
  
"Where are you going, Kyungsoo-yah?" Jongin asks, that wretched arm stretching forward in graceful slow-motion (at least, in Kyungsoo's head). He snatches his hand out of the way and strides purposefully out of the room with a terse, "Mind your own business."  
  
"Are you going to take a crap, hyung?" Sehun calls after him, and the dorm explodes with sounds of mirth.  
  
"You're dead when I get back," Kyungsoo barks out. He rounds the corner of the hallway and ducks into the bathroom to splash water on his face, which is now so red, he's might as well have been slapped around. He tries to block out the expression of naked hurt on Jongin's face, which was the last thing he saw before he made his dramatic exit. Later on, when he seats himself next to Baekhyun on a patch of floor instead of returning to his spot on the couch, the look is still fixed in place.  
  
_It's better this way,_  Kyungsoo reasons. He balls up his fists so tightly that his blunt fingernails engrave parentheses into his skin.  _He won't find out this way._  
  
  
  
  
It's been two weeks since then, and Kyungsoo has successfully managed to avoid Jongin for the most part. It's shocking how easy it is to hide from someone who shares the same roof, how keeping Jongin out of his line of vision becomes almost second nature--with one exception. Backstage at one of their performances--which are so frequent now that one stage bleeds into the next twenty with a mere car ride and a change of clothes--heartbreak strikes.  
  
Jongin slinks back in line until he is next to Kyungsoo, who is completely unaware of his presence. The singer only feels Jongin's cool hand slide over his wrist before he hears the plaintive words.  
  
"Kyungsoo." He hesitates. Then, "Hyung."  
  
Jongin has never used the title with him before, and Kyungsoo doesn't know whether to blush or to uncork the tears he's been holding back since The Episode. He ends up doing neither. Instead, he gently peels Jongin's fingers off him; just a little pressure on each digit, and they softly, sadly, give way. Kyungsoo's chest feels like it's splintering into shards when he replies, "You've never called me hyung, Jongin."  
  
"Is that why you're angry?"  
  
There is a barely-there brush of fingertips at the fine bone of Kyungsoo's wrist.  
  
"Of course not." Kyungsoo feels his voice catching, his lips trembling. "I'm not angry."  
  
"Then why won't you look at me?" Jongin mumbles. It's not a question, but a lament. Kyungsoo teeters dangerously close to falling apart.  
  
He is flooded with relief when Yixing drags Jongin back to the front of the line by his shirt. Exo's entrance beat pounds. The spotlights surge, and then Jongin is in the center, smiling wide.  
  
It takes half of "Growl," but it's the first thing Kyungsoo notices when he sneaks a glance at one of the huge LCD screens broadcasting their stage. The camera zooms in on Jongin's magnificent face--and there, right there, Kyungsoo sees something terribly wrong. That smile doesn't belong to Jongin. It's hollow and hopeless, painfully unnatural--the smile of someone who has just been discarded.  
  
Smack dab in the middle of the performance, he relents.  
  
_I want to explain,_  is what races through Kyungsoo's mind. _I need to explain._  
  
The confetti is still falling as he weaves through the maze of idols, stylists, and managers, ignoring the flakes of paper caught in his hair. He spots Jongin in a secluded corner. _I need to explain,_  Kyungsoo keeps repeating to himself; a new mantra. _I just need to explain._  He's so focused on the words and caught up in the undulating crush of people, he fails to notice Chanyeol.  
  
It's only when Kyungsoo is an arm's length away that he clocks in the rapper, who towers behind Jongin, ensnaring him in a tight back hug. One of Chanyeol's hands rests protectively on Jongin's waist, shielding that old dance injury of his. Jongin fiddles with a piece of confetti and lets himself be held.  
  
_"I really like Kai. And I think he likes me, too."_ Chanyeol's words ricochet back, bullets hitting their target. Bullseye.  
  
Kyungsoo spins on his heel without a word.  
  
  
  
  
"Just tell him you love him, Kyungsoo."  
  
The boy's head jerks up, only to unceremoniously loll downwards when he feels the effects of whiplash.  
  
"Ow." He rubs his neck gingerly. "What did you say, hyung?"  
  
Kris sighs deeply, looking sage. "You heard what I said. You don't have to pretend." Before Kyungsoo can open his mouth, Duizhang interjects. " _Everybody knows_ , Kyungsoo. Everybody. Except the one who should."  
  
"What does everybody know," Kyungsoo bleats in monotone, the surface of M's kitchen table suddenly turning to ice under his hands. Or perhaps it's the other way around.  
  
There's a smirk on Kris' face, but it's coupled with a fond look. "Everybody knows," he says slowly, "that you're smitten with Jongin."  
  
Kyungsoo's throat jams. "What do you mean?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Kris prods him in the chest, brows converging formidably. Kyungsoo gulps in spite of himself. "Are you telling me you aren't in love with Jongin? That you haven't been avoiding him for weeks? Or that you don't shoot longing looks at him every time you assume nobody's watching? Tell me the truth here, no bullshit."  
  
Flustered and reeling, Kyungsoo vacillates between completely denying the whole thing and caving to Kris's intimidating persistence. "No. What? I mean, wait. I'm not sure what you're saying, hyung, but I--"  
  
"It's a simple question, Kyungsoo. And you've already made things so complicated with that poor kid." The fondness is seeping out of his eyes now, and M's leader looks more stern than soft, even though Kyungsoo is one of his favorites. "Do you love him? Yes or no?"  
  
The sound of shuffling feet makes them both turn to the doorway. Kyungsoo's stomach drops, swift and spine-curling like that elevator ride at Lotte World. His palms are suddenly coated with an unpleasant film of sweat, and his throat works of its own accord, parched and scratchy.  _Water!_  he screams inside. Because it's Jongin standing there--Jongin, whom he hasn't been able to corner since their performance three days ago, even though Lord knows Kyungsoo has tried and  _tried_. Jongin, who spends all his free time not with Kyungsoo, not even with Sehun, but with Chanyeol-- _Chanyeol_ , who's already said he likes him, just like that. Jongin, his best friend, who used to have such an ease and nonchalance about him, but who now shifts from foot to foot at the threshold, rolling and unrolling his undoubtedly clammy hands in the hem of his sweatshirt, never having looked this insecure in all the years Kyungsoo has known him. Jongin, who was standing there just a second ago--  
  
"Wait!" Kyungsoo's voice leaves his throat in a desperate cry. When Jongin stops in his tracks, wary as a wild animal, the older boy considers it divine intervention.  
  
Jongin doesn't turn around, though--just stands there with his back turned, hands plunged into the worn recesses of his sweatshirt.  
  
"Don't mess it up," Kris murmurs, sliding away from the table as noiselessly as he can and crossing the room. He pauses by Jongin for a moment to whisper something, but he says it so discreetly that Kyungsoo can't hear. He only sees the dancer's body soften, shoulders thawing ever-so-slightly from their initial rigor. Then Kris is out the door, and it's just the two of them left.  
  
Kyungsoo is terrified. His whole body is quivering and he can't stop gnawing at his lip; he can taste blood, a spot of sour rust on the tip of his tongue. But he has never felt this determined about anything, not since his trainee days when he couldn't dance a step of choreography. He approaches Jongin, cautious but resolute, and tugs at the sleeve of his shirt.  
  
"Jongin," he says gently. "Can we talk?"  
  
"Is that true?" Jongin says out of nowhere. Kyungsoo can tell he is holding his breath by the way his shoulders have stiffened again, like an unseen mechanic has tightened all the nuts and bolts hidden underneath Jongin's smooth, lush skin.  
  
"Is what true?" Kyungsoo wishes he could pull Jongin into his arms and whisper "I'm sorry" into the shell of his ear; longs to push his fingers through the boy's unruly hair and make him breathe easy again. He just wants to coax it all better, so that Jongin can smile the way he used to when he looked over at Kyungsoo after a great day. Countenance soft, cheeks glowing with delight, dark eyes so impossibly warm.  
  
"That you love me," Jongin whispers, fervent as a prayer. His voice drops to a hush at the end, but Kyungsoo hears him anyway. "Kris-hyung said so just now."  
  
"What exactly did he say?" Kyungsoo whispers back. He can't believe Kris beat him to the punch--the  _nerve_ of some hyungs--but he's too scared at the moment to accommodate the energy of fury. There's a song Chanyeol plucks on the guitar from time to time, mouthing along to the English lyrics, and the first verse trickles into Kyungsoo's consciousness without warning. _I don't wanna be your friend, I just wanna be your lover,_ it declares, sweet and low.  _No matter how it ends, no matter how it starts._  These are words he longs to express in his own language, and he reaches for Jongin's hand inside the other's pocket, curling his fingers around that perfect wrist.  
  
Jongin exhales.  
  
"He said, ‘Don't worry, he loves you.'"  
  
The hope Kyungsoo experiences is strong as a swell of wind, and he can hardly speak from the overwhelming sensation. "Why would you be worried, Jongin-ah?"  
  
As soon as the endearment leaves his lips, Jongin turns around--finally, to Kyungsoo's inexorable joy. He has missed this face so much; Jongin's beauty, made infinitely more beautiful with the realization of love. Kyungsoo positively basks in it: the telltale blush that colors-in Jongin's complexion, the lovely vulnerability of his trembling mouth, and most especially, the tenderness and trepidation in Jongin's gaze as his eyes meet Kyungsoo's.  
  
The reverie is quickly broken when Jongin blurts out a string of half-sentences in rapid-fire succession. "I was worried, because I love you, and I always have, and I think I always will, even if you don't love me--"  
  
"But Chanyeol--"  
  
"--and Chanyeol-hyung, he's just my friend, and he said maybe you were confused when we watched the show but that was just fanservice--"  
  
"Fanservice--"  
  
"--yes, it's just for the fans, it's nothing, we're just bros, Kyungsoo--"  
  
"Oh--"  
  
"--really, I swear, and Kyungsoo, listen, I can call you by your name or I can call you hyung, whatever you want, I'll do whatever you like, and I won't tease you, and I'll never treat you like a kid, because I want to treat you well, and I want you to be happy always, because I love you more than you love me, and that's okay, because I love you most of all."  
  
Something powerful and exquisite unfurls in Kyungsoo's heart, and he swoons.  
  
"But Jongin," he manages, wrapping his arms around the other, who anchors him in turn, sure and snug. "That's impossible."  
  
"What is?" Jongin murmurs in his embrace, buzzing. He rests his chin in the pliant dip between Kyungsoo's neck and shoulder, which smells of bath soap and fresh laundry and love, to be honest.  
  
"That you love me more than I love you." Kyungsoo stands on tip-toe so he can confess this part into Jongin's ear, just like he wanted. "It's the other way around, Jongin. You don't know how much you mean to me."  
  
He draws the dancer close, shyly nudging at his lips. Jongin takes the hint, and he bends so Kyungsoo can meet his parted mouth in a warm, fluid caress. They kiss and they kiss, each slide of lips a new confession, and Kyungsoo feels heady with bliss and immensely stupid for waiting this long to come clean.  
  
Jongin pulls away first for air. "That was nice," he breathes, looking dazed. He grazes Kyungsoo on the eyelids, the action bashful and intimate. "But I still love you more."  
  
"Nope," Kyungsoo counters, planting one on Jongin's neck, right above the pulse point. He draws back for a second and regards his junior. "Am I going to have to pull out the hyung card here?"  
  
Jongin cracks up for the first time in weeks. Kyungsoo is so pleased, he pecks Jongin all over his face--crest of the nose, tip of the chin, two on the forehead, one on each ruddy cheek. When the laughter wanes, it leaves its glorious traces in the form of a grin.  
  
It's small, but it's a real one this time.  
  
Kyungsoo can tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics excerpt from Radiohead's "House of Cards."


End file.
